There’s something about the warm, small hand of a child that instantly puts things into perspective. I learned that one recent bright, autumn day.

It had been a difficult morning of organizing a busy schedule to meet so many demands, almost hour by hour. The things I had to do kept running through my mind and I made mental checks next to each thing I accomplished. I moved on like a robot, proud of being able to keep up with such a hectic schedule.

It was time to pick up my grandson at preschool. I made it, with time to spare and waited for him outside his classroom door. I was in command and I was proud again.

When the teacher opened the door, my grandson saw me, our eyes met and a broad smile came across his face. He waited to be told he could leave the line and met me in the hallway, reaching up and putting his hand into mine, threading his fingers through my fingers and holding them fast.

Their warmth shot through me. "Hi Nana," he said. "Did you have a good day?"

I was about to say, yes I had a great day. But then I hesitated. It had been a productive day, no doubt. But a good day, not.

What small, warm fingers intertwined between my own so richly taught me that early afternoon was that getting things accomplished was not what life was all about. I didn’t smell the chicken cutlets I fried up for dinner along the way, and I didn’t smile at the cashier at the supermarket check out counter and wish her a good day as I departed with my groceries. I didn’t take a 5-minute nap on the bed I made and I didn’t check out my horoscope in the newspaper after reading national and local coverage. Most of all, I didn’t think about small, warm fingers and what they were doing in class that day, wondering whether they were squishing through clay or covered with red paint. I missed an awful lot as I checked so many other things off my "must do" list.

But I also learn my lessons well. We ran out of school and to the car carefree. I cleared my calendar for the rest of the day and my grandson and I went out to lunch and pumpkin picking.

Small, warm fingers make you want to do things like that. —Carolyn James